


Yanderes

by Whorcrux_x_x



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Death, F/F, F/M, Gore, Horror, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Psychological Horror, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:24:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whorcrux_x_x/pseuds/Whorcrux_x_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles of obsessive violent love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yandere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are my original yandere works.

Love. Love had become a bane to your existence as you hid trembling inside a closet, just waiting for him to sniff you out.

You knew he would find you soon. It was almost like he had a sixth sense when it came to you.

Every where you went would have him watching you. His eyes would follow you and easily find you no matter how much of a crowd surrounded you.

He was always smiling. A creepily soft smile that one could mistake as tender and without threat. In fact it was that ‘smile’ that had fooled you into trusting him.

His eyes would be warm, but after awhile, you had seen that there was something dead behind his gaze coupled with that faint smile of his that didn’t show any teeth.

To others he just looked like an ordinary boy, to you in the past before seeing what he truly hid behind his eyes, he had been a sweet boy from your class that had always offered to help you with your homework or walk you home from school .

A gentlemanly boy that seemed out of place in your high school full of moody teenagers that worried more about their appearances than their grades.

You had thought he was special and he had proved he was special just short weeks of dating him.

When the first dead boy had appeared in the school’s gymnasium, you hadn’t made a connection. Of course having a classmate being killed and then put behind the bleachers only to be crushed as the bleachers were pushed back into the wall was terrifying.

Students had gossipped for weeks saying that the dead boy had been so badly disfigured and taken apart by the bleachers pushing back on his dead body like an accordion.

It had made you shiver but he, the gentlemanly boy, had been there to comfort you, making you feel safe.

The only thing you had remembered of the dead boy was that on the day he had died he had asked you for a pen when in homeroom.

That was all you remembered of him.

The second dead boy came as a shock because it was a mere two weeks after the first one.

This one was found with his throat slit from ear to ear just a block from his house, or so the gossip addicted students had whispered in the halls.

Ah, you had talked to that dead boy… Once.

He had accidentally bumped into you in the hallway just two days before.

How could you have known?

Your parents began to worry about you going to that school. Sure, the murdered students were boys but they still didn’t want you to go back to school until their transfered you to a school without a growing death toll.

You had cried over the phone to your boyfriend, the one with the sweet smile, and he had been as understanding as you had expected him to be.

“I’ll find a way to keep you in our school, I promise.”

You had gone to sleep peacefully that night, thinking foolish things like your boyfriend talking to his parents to transfer with you or talking to your own parents in order for you to stay.

The smell of metal and a suffocating wetness covering your mouth along with a weight pressing down on your hips was what awakened you later on.

You had opened your fearful eyes widely in the dark, just seeing a shadow inches from your face. You heart was pounding so fiercely, your chest hurt and felt like it was being crushed.

“I took care of everything…,” the soothing tones of your boyfriend should have been comforting if it hadn’t been for him being inside your house in the middle of the night, smelling a nauseating scent of metal and having his wet palm that tasted of a sickening salt over your lips.

The metal and salt was blood.

“Now you won’t have to transfer anymore!” his voice had a manic tremble to his tone despite its cheeriness.

You had only managed to get away because he, in his crazed state, would have never guessed you would scratch at his smiling face.

He was so angry when you rushed out of the room and nearly slipped on the slippery blood spilled in the hallway.

It was so dark but you knew your house better than he did. The new things that were obstacles in your escape were the rubbery wet chunks you tripped over while fleeing.

Nausea made the insides of your throat itch at merely guessing what you were tripping over clumsily in the dark.

You had been so close to the door… He had seen your shadow darting there and you were so frightened you could hear him breathe while watching you trying to hide from him.

He knew you were in that closet. He could always find you even in your shadowy house.

You could hear him panting outside the closet door as your blood rushed through your veins in terror because he KNEW you were there yet he wasn’t opening the door to drag you out.

“I did it all for you…,” he sounded as if on the verge of tears as you squeezed your eyes shut at the eeriness of his voice breaking the silence of your house.

“Why are you running away…?”

Your mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

It felt like an eternity before you stopped hearing his panting breath, heard some rustling and then the front door of your house opening and closing.

When the cops came minutes later, they had found a message written in blood in the hallway outside of your room.

It was an ironic message that almost made you have a fit of laughter. Your parents were dead along with two boys in your school and your boyfriend’s parting message to you was hilarious yet infuriating.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

However… Despite his message, you could still feel his eyes finding you in a crowd or watching you before going to sleep.

No one heard of him again after that, but last week one of your coworkers at the office you worked in years later, a nice man that had opened the door for you, had been found strangled by his belt inside his apartment.

There had been a double meaning to the last message from your old high school boyfriend. He had only said that to hide from the police while in his mind you were still his.

The gentlemanly boy with the kind smile was still around and you no longer had a closet near your front door to hide from him when he next decided to visit you late at night.


	2. What A Yandere Adores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connected to the first story.

It was your cuteness that made me focus on you. The way you would hide your smile behind your hand and would laugh without meeting my eyes except for brief seconds.

You were so cute. That was one of the many things I loved about you.

It made me want to protect you. Shelter everything that is you from everyone that so much as looked at you or breathed within the same room as you did.

No one can love you like I can. No one would do the same things I do for you.

At first, all I did was make you comfortable with me. I showed you how harmless I was in order to get your smile.

I would do small things for you like carry your backpack or open the door for you and let you walk in first. These small things would sometimes give me equally small rewards that I treasured.

Like the eraser you had dropped in algebra that I pretended I couldn’t find for you so I gave you mine, or the straw of your juice box.

I kept these things safe, just like I wanted to keep you safe, inside a small box with a lock within my closet.

I cut out your picture from our year book. You didn’t know about how I went through every year we’ve been together in school and I found every picture of you…

Each and every one of those pictures were cut into a small collage that I glued to a page. Oftentimes I would walk around my house with it in my hand so I could stop at random times to look at it whenever I missed you which was nearly all the time.

I didn’t start breaking into your house at night until we’ve been a couple for a week. You were so pretty and perfect in your sleep and the rise and fall of your chest as you slowly breathed was one of my favorite things about my visits to you.

The first boy was an accident. I had only wanted to warn him. He didn’t understand why it was so important for me to protect you from all of Them.

He had mouthed off to me when I had explained. I had found him practicing basketball in the gym an hour or so after school.

When he had turned his back to me, I’ll admit something inside of me broke. It was a desperation with rage and adrenaline that had urged me to run up to him, put my hands in either sides of his head and twist.

I didn’t know I had so much strength and I became scared for a second until I realized that I had to hide his body and destroy the evidence.

To this day I can still hear the sounds of the bleachers breaking his bones. It sounded no different than snapping dry sticks being bended until breaking and splintering. After the sickening crunch of his body was over all I could smell was salt and filth clinging in the air.

I hadn’t done a bad thing. I know that. You see, if it was for you nothing I did could ever be ‘wrong’.

The next boy had deserved it. I didn’t like the way he had looked at you after bumping into you. I was a boy myself and I knew what he had in his eyes.

The future dead boy had looked a little too long at your chest despite me standing there beside you.

He wanted to harm you. I could practically smell it on him. I had to get rid of him before he thought of really putting his nasty lustful hands on you.

I thought you would understand why I stepped in behind him when he was walking home from hanging out with his loud friends.

When I slit his throat, I smiled thinking of you and what I was protecting.

There was so much blood. It had sprayed with that salty metallic scent and I was grateful I had decided to not get rid of him upfront.

Couldn’t have people on the streets seeing me bathed in blood, now could we?

Everything would have been perfect if your parents hadn’t gotten involved. I liked your parents but I had to do what had to be done for you.

I had promised and I would be a bad boyfriend if I broke my promises. I didn’t want to disappoint you in failing.

Did you know what a heavy sleeper you are? During my visits to you I would lay on the bed beside you and would hold you in my arms and you wouldn’t wake up. You were just too adorable in your sleep.

It wasn’t that hard to slit the throats of your parents without you knowing. Your father had given me some trouble when he tried to shield your mother who was already spraying all that blood, blood that sadly reminded me of you, all over the sheets.

I was upset at them giving me so much trouble. I’ll try to learn how to control myself next time because I get messy when angry.

Scattering their body parts all over the house hadn’t been part of my plans.

And having you not understand… That had come as unexpected.

That scratch you have given me had stung. Not only did it sting my cheek when you lashed out at me to get out of the bed I had you pinned on, but it stung and insulted my feelings for you.

Pure feelings.

I was like a wounded animal feeling I had done something wrong in upsetting you when I had stood outside that closet door when you had hid from me. I could hear your heartbeat through it and I could practically smell your fear.

How could you have misunderstood everything so completely?! I had tears in my eyes as my darkness adjusted gaze stared at the wooden surface of the door separating me from you.

The wetness of the blood of your parents clung to my fingers as they twitched with the urge to just yank the door open so I could look at you.

But I held back. I’m trying to learn how to control my anger to avoid messes like the one with your parents.

Did you get my message…? I know it seems sudden. Me saying in the wall that we couldn’t be together anymore.

Please don’t be upset. I’ll find a way for us to still be together, we just can’t be seen because of the mess I made at your house.

Breaking into your new apartment wasn’t as easy as I would have liked… It’s comforting to see that after all these years you still sleep so cutely, so heavily.

You were innocent. I would look down at your sleeping face and would see only perfection. My fingers would itch to wrap around your throat in order to keep you asleep and protected forever.

That coworker of yours, the one I had strangled with a belt, was an 'accident’. He was trying to run away when he found me inside his dirty little apartment.

The belt was the only thing I could get in such short notice. He had it thrown on the floor so I just grabbed it while he was fleeing like a coward and ran up behind him to wrap it around his throat, like a dog leash.

He had gurgled when I strangled him. Saliva seemed to have accumulated in his closed throat as I had pulled at the belt that sounded of stretching leather.

You knew it was me, didn’t you?

That somehow excites me. Now whenever I visit you when you’re asleep, my smile is wider as I would look at your inviting throat.

But I’m still holding myself back from wrapping my hands around your neck and putting pressure.

Do you know why is that…?

Because I adore you.


	3. Pretty Hair (Female/Female)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short little psychotic drabble.

She was just inches from your face. A maniacal smile made her face look as if it were split at the lips when she giggled at your terrified expression.

“You’re so pretty!” you cringed when she grabbed a handful of your hair in a feigned gentle caress.

She fisted the hair she had been admiring, her crazed smile becoming soft with her vacant dull eyes.

“Pretty hair…”

She began to yank painfully to pull your head up so she could better look at you, making you scream behind the cloth she had forced into your mouth. The pulling was so cruel you could feel hairs being slowly yanked out of your stinging scalp.

“Makes me want to make it mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos and/or review if you liked.


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